


yet you really did give me all that i asked for

by zsolisz



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Goodbyes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zsolisz/pseuds/zsolisz
Summary: So, in a way, it was you, Oliver, who looked away first.
Relationships: Oliver/Elio Perlman
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	yet you really did give me all that i asked for

**Author's Note:**

> An ending.

You didn't say your name. 

No, you kept going, Oliver, walked like a soldier in that way you always have, clutching the handle of your suitcase as its wheels bounced along the slightly uneven bumps of that familiar sidewalk.

The taxi waited just past you, old and worn with yellow paint chipping off its ugly scratched surface, so much so that the taxi itself really was more grey than yellow, and I decided it really wasn’t worthy of being called yellow at all.

But you were wearing that blue shirt of yours, Oliver, that soft one with the white stripes. I’d always thought they looked like pajamas, but you made them work, somehow. Simple cotton with a couple frayed threads pulled across its waves, sunlight playing across fabric like some skittish spotlight. The smooth skin of your neck remained bare, though, except for small wisps of hair trailing up to those familiar strands. 

Nothing I haven't seen before. 

So I don’t know why something dropped in my chest just then, or why something squeezed and pulled against my lungs, or why I could no longer breathe. 

Then a breeze shifted a curl of your hair, leaving it hanging alone by the flesh of your neck, and I was done with it all.

Really, I don’t remember thinking. I don’t remember deciding to move and I don’t remember my legs pushing me forward, but somehow I ended up right behind you, with the blue-and-white fabric of your sleeve clutched in my fist. I don’t remember wanting to speak but somehow I was, and so I was standing there, with your clothed wrist in my bare palm, and I was talking.

“Stay," I said. 

Just a word. Just one.

Just a word that made you turn, slightly, and made your eyes widen a bit as they met mine. 

And your eyes have always laid me bare, Oliver, so I stopped pretending, just for a minute, and when I spoke this time I knew what I was going to say, because I wanted to say it, and want to say it now, and somehow I was there, forcing your gaze on mine as my tongue moved and I breathed,

“Just this once,” I said. “Stay, just this once.”

And you blinked, Oliver, like this was something you’d never thought of before, like the impossible thought of _staying here with me_ had never once crossed your mind. 

There was still so much I wanted to say, of course, but I said none of them, and either way I don't think it mattered since we've always understood each other, you and I.

And I could see the second you understood, because your eyes softened, then hardened, and you were moving in closer until there were barely inches between your chest and mine.

When you spoke, your lips barely moved, and I could see the way they opened and shut, chapped and pink, and I realized you were whispering, 

“You know I can't," you said. 

I wasn't even surprised, really. 

Your hands reached up then, let go of the tight grip on your suitcase handle to cup the sides of my face, and my cheek leaned into the light calluses of your palm as if it in itself was desperate for more. 

My own hands came up to clutch at your wrists, and I shifted so I could feel them bare, pushing away at that damn blue-and-white fabric. 

You said nothing else, or at least your lips didn’t. But they didn’t have to, because your fingertips sang stories that seared my cheeks, my temples, the line of my jaw. Your pupils murmured apologies and your eyelashes whispered dissent, and as my palms grazed the smooth surface of your wrists, I heard echoes of the word _can’t_ , kissed so clearly into my waiting skin. 

Either way, it’s just as well that none of us said anything, because, in truth, there really was nothing left to say. 

I could see the apology in your eyes the second you made sure I understood, and you let your hands drop. Your palms didn’t so much as graze my skin as they fell, didn’t linger. It's almost as if you'd snatched them back- I almost expected to see burns on your fingers as I glanced down at them. 

Then you smiled, gave me another once-over. Then headed back towards the not-yellow taxi, the wheels of your suitcase resuming its happy bouncing across the uneven stones of the sidewalk. Arm reaching over, your fingertips grazed the back seat’s chipped handle, and I was staring at that blue-and-white fabric again. 

I stood there, just meters away from you, and for once my legs remained still, and my hands remained meters away from yours, and I had nothing to say. 

You opened the door, then. Greeted the driver with a smile, shoved your suitcase on the floor.

Just before you entered, though, you glanced back, just slightly, just enough to look comfortably over your shoulder. 

You breathed, and your lips began to move, and I realized then that I would again hear your ever-familiar _Later!_ : that that regretful farewell and teasing promise would again spring so carelessly from your lips and I would hate it and yet yearn for it, as I always had. 

So I held my hand out, and whether I wanted to catch your words or block them out didn’t matter either way, because of course you'd still say them.

But your lips didn’t form the whisper of the letter _L_ , and the corner of your mouth didn’t quirk upwards into its familiar accompanying grin. 

The firm grip clutching at my chest released, and I began to breathe. 

“So this is it,” you said. The corner of your lips quirked up, just a bit. 

I breathed, and I said nothing.

You stood there, then, just for a second, and as your gaze trailed across my skin, I could feel their fleeting touches against the tip of my nose, my forehead, my eyelids. 

And still I said nothing, and our eyes locked and held like they always have, like they always had, really, the silence didn't matter at all, because you understood me all the same.

Your eyes softened again, and still you were smiling, just a bit, but this time I could see a pale sheen of crystal laid bare against the surface of your eyes, blue waves glistening against the golden sunlight.

"Bye, Elio," you said. 

Then yet again you turned, moving to settle down on the cushioned car seats, and again I met a glance of the blue-and-white shirt splayed across your ever-familiar back.

The taxi door shut with a light click, and again our eyes met, though yours didn’t seem so blue anymore through the taxi’s scratched window. 

A puff of smoke clouded behind the taxi’s back, wheels turning against the road’s asphalt.

Still neither of us looked away, and I don’t know whether it was because I refused to or if you took the idea as a challenge of sorts, a game of _who cared for who more_ laid bare against clear eyes. 

Either way, it didn't matter, because the taxi continued moving, and the game couldn't continue unless you turned your neck. Too much of an effort, really. The strain of a muscle or twenty just for the sake of lengthening a goodbye. 

So, in a way, it was you, Oliver, who looked away first. 

And as I watched the not-yellow taxi turn a corner and move ever so far away, and as I turned away and began to walk back home as well, I realized I should have thanked you, really. 

You gave me all that I asked for, after all. 

I had asked for you to know, and to remember, and as your fingertips had trailed across my cheekbones, down to the skin of my waiting lips, and as your eyes had told me everything I’d been waiting for, you had, even for a moment, just one last time, made your name mine.

**Author's Note:**

> Quick sketch. 
> 
> Please leave a kudos or a comment if you liked it!


End file.
